


Nothing Left to Lose

by loviedovielou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Christmas, Explicit Language, M/M, Secret Santa, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loviedovielou/pseuds/loviedovielou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis fucking hates Secret Santa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Left to Lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedstars/gifts).



> Hiii twistedstars! I loved all of your awesome prompts, but the Holiday Uni AU really stuck out to me and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Massive thanks to my incredible beta reader. You're the best! xo

"For the last bloody time, Louis," Liam Payne, best mate number one, snaps, "every single person in this dorm has agreed to do Secret Santa,  _except_  you. So please quit being stubborn and pick a fucking name already, because you've been outvoted!" Exasperated, he shoves a hat into Louis' unimpressed face, eyes narrowed into small, angry slits.

With a roll of his eyes, Louis Tomlinson lets out a low sigh and sticks his hand into the ugly hat, pulling a folded piece of paper free. “Happy?”

 “Yes,” Liam huffs.

 “Who’d you get, Lou?” asks Zayn Malik, best mate number two, who is sitting on his bed surrounded by books and notes, along with a Red Bull perched in his hand.

Louis is in the same position, except he’s on the floor and he’s drinking tea, because Red Bull is revolting. Setting his beverage aside, far enough from his notes in case it spills, but close enough to reach when needed, he unravels the piece of paper. Scrawled in messy lettering is a name he doesn’t recognize.

Looking up at his friends with a frown, he says, “Who the fuck is Harry Styles?"

 

 ///

     

Louis stares at the daunting door, buzzing with nerves. 

From what he gathered last night thanks to Zayn, Harry Styles is the dorm's introvert. Well, Zayn had used the word ‘loner’, but referring to Harry as an introvert seems nicer in Louis’ mind, so he’s going with that.

Apparently the boy doesn’t have any friends...or seem to want any from what Louis has heard, which should really be his first clue to stay away considering Louis has a really difficult time interacting with unsocial people.

_“Honestly, Lou?”_  Zayn had said the night before.  _“I say be careful with that one. I’ve heard some people talk recently, and they all say he’s insane.”_

The prospects of this boy being insane should be his second clue to stay away, but Louis is stubborn. He’s been roped into doing this stupid Secret Santa thing, and dammit, he plans to do it right. There will be no boring socks or awful tea mugs gifted from this guy, oh no. Instead, Louis is going to go about this a little bit differently, and he hopes it all works itself out.

Gathering his wits, he sucks in a lungful of air and forces his knuckles to tap against the wooden door.

Sooner than necessary, the door is thrown open to reveal a blond haired lad with blue eyes, shielded behind a pair of eyeglasses. He’s also wearing an extremely large grin. Louis is immediately taken back. This can’t be Harry Styles, Dorm Introvert. There’s no way.

“Tomlinson, hey!”

Louis’ eyebrows rise so high they practically meet his hairline. This guy knows his name, and yet he doesn’t even recognize him. “Hey..uh...”

“It’s Niall,” the blond says with a laugh. “Niall Horan. I’m in your Lit class.”

“Right! Niall!” Louis nods along. “Nice to meet you. Listen, is Harry Styles in, by any chance?”

“Harry? Yeah, ‘course.” He twists around. “Hey, H, you got company.”

Louis peeps into the room over Niall’s shoulder. The first thing he sees is a head full of brown curls. The boy looks up from his book, meets Louis’ peeping gaze, and the slight quirk of his lips turns into a frown.

Louis doesn’t notice right away because his chest is currently seizing up at the sight of green sparkling eyes and soft pale skin and the way his lips are so, so pink, like he’s wearing lipstick, and all he can think is: Harry Styles is one beautiful, insane introvert.

 

 ///

 

“He wouldn’t even talk to me!” Louis sulks, face down on the small slither of bed Zayn is sharing with him. “Just got off his bed, stared me in the eye with a not-so-nice look, and shut the door in my face.”

Zayn pats him on the back. “Then give him coal and be done with it.”

Louis chokes on a laugh as he rolls onto his side to face his best mate, whose eyes are trained on his sketchbook while Louis vents to him. “I didn’t even want to do this bloody thing, and he shouldn’t have signed up if he didn’t want to participate either.”

“Well, to be fair, Lou,” says Zayn, “you’re really the only one going around seeking out your Secret Santa assignment. No one else has done that, I don’t think—"

“Hey!” Louis interrupts with an indignant cry. “It’s not my fault I had no idea who Harry Styles was until yesterday. What am I supposed to buy a stranger? And don’t you dare say socks again,” he warns. “Or coal. I can’t buy him coal. How awful would that be? I’d weep if someone gave me coal for Christmas.”

“He deserves it.” Zayn shrugs. “I mean, he probably had no idea who you were or what you wanted, but he sounds rude as fuck. Coal would teach him to be nicer. I’m sure of it.”

“Zayn,” Louis says, “he’d probably kill me in my sleep if I did that. He seemed like the type.”

“The type to off someone over a Christmas present?” Zayn snorts. “Lou, where’s your head tonight, man? I don’t think this guy is willing to be charged with murder for your arse.”

Louis kicks his foot out at Zayn’s knee. “I’m being serious! He had this wild look in his eye, like even though he doesn’t know me, he despises me. You should’ve seen it.”

Zayn finally sets his pencil down, eyes finding Louis’. “Want to know what I really think?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“I think you’re attracted to him.”

“I am not!” squawks Louis. “I can’t believe you think that.”

“Well, gee, Lou, act a little bit more defensive and  _maybe_  I’ll believe you,” laughs Zayn dryly.

Louis rolls off the bed with a pinched expression. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I’m friends with you. I’m going to my own bed.” He steps three feet back and collapses on his own single mattress, glaring at Zayn, who merely smirks at him.

“You’re just mad because you know I’m right,” he tells Louis.

“Fuck off.”

 

///

     

Hidden behind a bookshelf in the Astronomy section is Louis, who might have accidentally stumbled into a stalking session twenty minutes ago.

It all happened kind of fast, and certainly out of nowhere.

Taking a small break from studying, Louis decided to duck out to the drink machine for a fizzy drink, when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of those familiar brown curls belonging to none other than Harry Styles.

He ducked behind a bookshelf before being seen, and now here he is, maintaining a low profile by pretending to be reading a book on the solar system. He barely glimpses at the pages as he slowly flips through the book, eyes trained through a small opening in the bookshelf that's currently giving him an inconspicuous view of the beautiful boy, whose head is buried in his text books.

Louis isn’t sure what he was thinking when he decided to abandon not only his studies, but also Liam, in order to spend a few minutes watching a boy whom he doesn’t know; a boy who wants nothing to do with him. It all sounds kind of crazy, and perhaps Louis is going a little mad, but whatever, no one needs to know.

Just when he thinks that things can’t get any worse, his phone goes off; the phone he forgot to silence even though Liam reminded him twice. Bloody brilliant.

Startled, the book in Louis’ hand goes tumbling to the floor. He bites back a curse word as it lands with a nice loud thud, and ducks in case Harry is to turn and catch sight of him. Then he yanks his phone free from his pocket, hands starting to shake as his device continues to sing ‘Fuck You’ by Lily Allen really loudly. He jams his finger against the screen to answer it without a glance at the caller I.D., and nearly squeaks when Liam’s voice rings through.

“Louis, where the fuck are you? You can’t just abandon me while I’m trying to help you study. Don’t you know how rude that is! I swear—"

“Liam!” he whispers in an urgent tone, cutting his friend off.

“Mate, what’s with the whispering?”

Louis shrinks further into himself, sighing. Half of him wants to smash his head into the bookshelf, and the other half of him wants the floor to turn into a black hole. And yes, Louis does realize that the irony in that statement is on a whole new level of ridiculousness.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t move.” Louis ends the call with a huff and immediately silences his phone before it can start to ring again.

Shoving the book he dropped back onto the shelf, Louis makes a break for it, practically crawling out of the Astronomy section, shooting anyone who looks his way a nasty glare.

          

///

     

Two days later, after an especially boring lecture, Louis goes back to his dorm with only one thing in mind, taking a fucking nap.

As of recently, thanks to finals, his studies have taken over his life. Louis is pretty sure his brain has been fried from so much revising, and the only way to recover is to sleep. He would prefer to sleep for a month, but he's so desperate at this point that he'll take the one hour he’s been able to squeeze in before his shift at the frozen yogurt shop.

Entering his dorm, he expects the place to be empty. He doesn't expect to find Zayn and Liam on top of each other on Zayn's bed, their mouths glued together.

"Well," Louis says, as Zayn and Liam break apart, "at least you're clothed," and then he throws down his bag, kicks off his shoes, and collapses face-first onto his unmade bed.

"Louis...mate? You alright?" Zayn asks from under Liam.

Louis whines pathetically into his pillow. He's too exhausted to talk about his wellbeing right now.

He hears Liam sigh. Then Zayn's bed creaks. A few seconds later, the edge of Louis' bed sinks down and a hand touches his back. "Lou?" Liam murmurs. "What's going on?”

“Yeah, babe, talk to us,” Zayn encourages.

Louis rolls onto his side, facing his mates with a frown. “Can’t this semester end all ready? I just wanna fail my finals, go home to my mum, and not think about Harry fucking Styles ever again.”

Liam quirks an eyebrow and exchanges a look with Zayn, one that Zayn clearly returns.

Louis huffs. “Shut up!”

“We didn’t say anything!” Liam protests.

“You didn’t have to. You were speaking with your eyes!”

Zayn breaks into a laugh. “Lou, you’re being ridiculous. We love yah, man, but maybe you should just try talking to Harry again, see why he’s so unhappy with you.”

“And say what, Zayn? 'Hi, Harry, Louis again, not sure what I did, but I’m sorry you hate me.' Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over real well,” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Just—” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “I want to nap before work, so get out or be quiet,” he tells them, rolling back onto his stomach. “Please,” he adds as an after-thought.

“Can I just say one more thing?” Liam asks tentatively.

“What?” Louis groans.

“Why don’t you go talk to his roommate? Niall, right? Isn’t he in one of your classes? See if he knows anything.”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” Zayn chimes in. “What do you say, Lou? It’s a worth a try, innit?”

“Shhh!” he hisses in response.

 

     ///

     

Louis shows up to his Lit class on Friday morning half asleep, with zero caffeine in his system, wearing dirty clothes all so he can pick Niall Horan's brain apart until he figures out why in the world Harry Styles hates him so much.

The plan does not go accordingly.

As it turns out, the man of the hour is missing. Of fucking course. Which means Louis turned down Zayn’s offer of free breakfast and coffee for no reason, plus he missed out on the chance to sleep in. Now he’s stuck three rows back and ten seats in, eyes blinking as he tries (struggles) to follow his professor's lecture. He wants so badly to sneak out, but unless he plans on getting onto all fours and crawling his way past his classmates to the door, that just isn’t going to happen.

Two hours later, Louis is still half asleep as he stumbles out of the classroom and back into freedom. Zayn is propped up against a nearby wall, two coffees in hand.

Louis makes a beeline for him, dodging bodies as he goes. “You’re like an angel,” he says, dazed, eyes staring longingly at the extra coffee Zayn is holding. “My own personal angel."

Zayn smirks. “Tell me something I don’t know, babe. So, how’d it go?”

Louis almost wants to erupt into a fit of tears just thinking about the last two hours. “He was a no-show.”

With wide eyes, Zayn coughs out a laugh. “No shit? Man, sorry to hear that. You should’ve texted me. I could have saved you.”

Louis leans into his friend, head resting on Zayn’s shoulder, and mutters, “And how would you have done that?”

“I could’ve run in there and told your professor our dorm was on fire.”

Louis snorts. “Something tells me that Professor Watson wouldn’t have believed you, but maybe next time we can test that theory.”

“Deal.”

 

     ///

 

"Lou? What are you doing?" Zayn asks, entering their dorm.

"Shh! I'm waiting for something," says Louis, shooing him away with his hand.

"I need the desk."

"Go to the library.”

Zayn sighs, closes the door, and drops his bag. Next thing Louis knows, Zayn is climbing up onto their desk and settling down beside him. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, peering out the window.

“Okay, don’t judge me,” Louis starts, and out of the corner of his eye he catches Zayn wince, as if he doesn’t really want to know, “but I’m waiting for Harry to leave. We luckily have a view of the front entrance,” he explains, “so as soon as I see him leave, I’m finally gonna go talk to Niall."

Zayn says nothing. He shifts against the desk, fidgets with his shoelace, and then he draws in a deep breath. “Louis,” he says.

“No. I don’t want to hear it,” Louis shakes his head. “It’s not stalking. It’s not weird.” He looks at Zayn and scowls at the look Zayn is giving him. “It’s not!” he insists with a huff.

“Alright, okay,” Zayn relents, “just wondering when this madness is going to end.”

“I don’t know,” sighs Louis, “maybe Friday when this is all over.”

“Why do you care so much, Lou?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno. Who cares— Oh, wait, look! There he is!” Louis’ face lights up as he stares through the glass and watches as the curly headed boy slips out the front entrance of their dormitory. He’s bundled up in his coat and scarf, and from Louis’ view, he can see just how pink his cheeks are.

“Well, you best go talk to Niall then,” Zayn says.

“Right,” Louis nods along, but he doesn’t move, just keeps staring, watching as Harry Styles slowly but surely heads down the sidewalk, slipping out of view.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Go!”

Louis nearly jumps right out of  his skin, startled by his friend's shouting. “Okay! God, relax, I’m going.” He untangles his legs and climbs off the desk and doesn’t look back, doesn’t see Zayn smirking from over his shoulder.

Louis sidles up to Niall and Harry’s door, chest rising and falling with nerves swimming in his chest. He raises his knuckles to knock, pauses to swallow past the anchor weighing in his throat, and taps against the wood.

Niall throws open the door with a wide grin and a sandwich in his hand, but his smile crumples the second he sees Louis, and Louis’ stomach drops out from underneath him.

“Hi,” Louis says.

“Uh, hey, Louis,” says Niall, clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if we could talk for a second?”

Niall stares for a moment too long, and Louis’ heart rate spikes considerably. Then he moves aside and nods. “Sure, come on in. Just — don’t tell Harry I let you in, okay?”

Louis tries not to take that personally, but it's hard. Still, he nods his head in agreement and slips into the small room.

The first thing he notices is how neat the room is. Both beds are made and their shelves are as organized as they could be. His and Zayn's room looks nowhere near this tidy. Well, maybe Zayn's side does, but certainly not Louis'. Looking back to Niall, who's dropping bread crumbs everywhere, Louis presumes that Harry is the tidy one.

"So, uh, I know this might sound weird," Louis starts, "but since Harry won't speak to me, I was wondering if you might know the reason for all this, maybe?"

Niall is staring at him with unblinking eyes, as if he couldn't care less what Louis has to say, and Louis already feels like he's lost this unnecessary battle, but he tries to stay hopeful.

"You really don't remember, mate?" Niall finally says, after a minute too long spent in silence.

Louis swallows. "Remember what exactly?"

"Oh, wow," Niall laughs, "this is unbelievable. You don't even know what you did to the poor kid. I can't fucking believe this."

A frown overtakes Louis' lips. He doesn't have a clue as to what Niall is going on about, and if he was nervous before, well, now he's ready to dive head first into a black hole before his nerves can get the best of him.

"I don't understand," Louis tells him. "I've never even spoken to Harry before last week."

Niall waves for him to sit down as he rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his sandwich. Louis does as he's instructed, sinking down onto the bed he thinks belongs to Niall, while the blond boy chews his food and swallows.

"You and Harry attended sixth form together," Niall finally says.

Louis goes still. Memories filter back from that time in his life and he inhales a sharp breath. "Oh, God."

          

     ///

     

That night at dinner, Louis sits with Zayn and Liam with his shoulders hunched, shame swirling through his stomach as he explains the situation, and why he knows Harry despises him.

"So let me get this straight," Liam says, "you beat the poor kid up in sixth form because he was  _gay_? Talk about being hypocritical, mate."

Louis scrubs a hand over his face. "I didn't beat him up, I swear," he says, “I just shoved him into some lockers a couple times. It was a long time ago—but I know that doesn’t make it any better."

"Didn't know you used to be homophobic,” Zayn says with raised eyebrows. "And I thought I knew everything about you."

Louis twirls some spaghetti around his fork, making a face at the food he has no desire to eat. “I’m an awful person.”

“You’re not,” Liam insists, “but you do need to make this right.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m going to. I don’t think my apology will be enough though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zayn tells him. "He may not forgive you, but it might still help if you acknowledge what you did."

Louis sets his fork down and nods a few times. “I should've known that time of my life was gonna come back and bite me in the arse,” he sulks.

“Did Niall at least tell you what Harry might like as a gift?” Zayn wonders.

“Yeah, actually, which was proper nice of him by the way. Apparently Harry is obsessed with two things: scarves and flowers.”

“I say you do both,” Liam says.

“Are you encouraging Louis to break the rules, Liam?” Zayn asks, wearing a half smile as he slings his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder.

Liam smiles shyly, leaning into his touch. “Maybe.”

Louis laughs a little. “I was gonna do it anyways, but thanks for your approval, Li.”

          

     ///

 

The rest of the week is full of stress-eating, all nighters, and pot after pot of coffee, as Louis prepares to take his last three finals before winter break starts. He doesn't have much time to think of Harry with all the studying he ends up doing, but he does spot him around campus a time or two, which is enough to spike his heart rate and remind him what he has planned for Friday.

When he gets back to the dorms Thursday night after work, Zayn is awake and alone, body laid out on his bed as he smokes a cigarette. Louis drops his stuff by the door, strips himself of his coat and shoes, and slumps down into the chair at their desk. It's then that he notices the open window, and his eyes narrow into a scowl.

"Zayn, it's cold," Louis whines, "go outside to smoke instead of turning our room into a fucking ice box."

"You smoked in here last week," says Zayn, voice as calm as can be, "so shut it."

Louis exhales a huffed breath. "Fine, just don't let Pete catch you," he says, referring to their resident who badgers them to no end.

"I won't," Zayn assures him. He rolls over and flicks the ashes off the end of the cigarette into an empty Red Bull can and then looks at Louis with sleepy eyes. "How did your last final go?"

Louis shrugs. "Who knows? I have a feeling I passed, but I know I didn't ace it."

"All that matters is you passed." Zayn drops the last bit of his cigarette into the can and Louis hears it fizzle out. "Have a victory sleep for me. Meanwhile, I'll be in the library studying for  _my_  last final." He climbs off the bed and reaches for his coat.

"I think— I think I'll go with you," Louis says, "if you don't mind, of course. I'm just too hyped up to sleep right now."

Zayn seems surprised, but he doesn't mention it, just nods his head and grabs his books.

They share a smoke on their way across the campus to the library, and even stop at the coffee cart for a pick-me-up. Zayn pays, bless his heart, and Louis bats his eyelashes and kisses him on the cheek as a thank you.

"Watch it," Zayn smiles, "Liam might get jealous if he hears you're going around kissing me."

Louis rolls his eyes in response.

When they reach the library, Louis sends Zayn in to find them a table while Louis lingers outside and lights another cigarette. Finals are over, and Louis is over the moon about that, but he still has to face Harry Styles tomorrow, and the mere thought has his nerves reeling.

He takes a pull from his smoke and heads for a nearby bench. Christmas lights are strung around the quad, roped around the trees that are surrounding the walkways, lighting the area golden. Louis takes a seat on the bench, and nearly jumps to his feet when he feels how cold the metal is pressed against his legs through his thin trousers. 

A deep, low laugh sounds from behind him, and Louis startles. He whips around, nearly dropping his cigarette, and squeaks when he finds Harry Styles himself standing five feet away and propped up against a tree with a half-peeled orange in his hand.

The boy’s laughter fades at the sight of Louis, and Louis feels like he should get up and walk away, but he can’t bring himself to do that; he’s too mesmerized by how fucking green and intense Harry’s eyes are, how they’re practically glowing. It doesn’t help that he’s also speechless. There are so many things he needs to say to this boy, but his throat is hung up around a jumble of words.

Harry stares back at him, raises one eyebrow. “Waiting for an apology or something?” he says, voice tight.

He glances away, off towards the empty path, lips tightening into a thin line. He looks like he has more to say, but he’s restraining himself, and Louis wishes he would just say it already, tell him how much of a dick he is, how hypocritical and awful of a human being he is. Hell, Louis wouldn’t blame him if he punched him, might even encourage it actually. But first he has other things to say, and now seems as good a time as ever.

“No, actually, but I know  _you_  are,” Louis finds himself saying.

He drops his cigarette onto the sidewalk and puts it out with his shoe. Then he stands, turning to face Harry with as much courage as he can possibly find within himself.

“I don’t want your apology,” Harry says bitterly.

“Honestly? I get it. I’m a few years too late, and I know that, but I still need to say it.”

“For who?” he scoffs. “Me or you?”

Louis frowns, regret knocking him in the stomach for the thousandth time this week. “For you, of course. If you’d just let me—"

Harry shakes his head. “No. No thanks, I’m good. I don’t care to hear your excuses or how sorry you may feel for what you did. It doesn’t change anything. So just do me a favor and stay away from me, think you can do that?”

Louis nods numbly, unsure of what to say, and Harry walks off without another word said.

     

///

 

Louis goes inside the library feeling terrible.

He wanders around aimlessly until he comes across Zayn, seated near the back, and then he slumps down into a chair and tries really hard not to cry from how frustrated he feels.

“Where have you been?” Zayn asks, looking up from his book.

Louis looks up at him, a permanent frown in place of his smile, and says, “I’m so fucked tomorrow.”

     

///

     

Tomorrow finally comes.

Louis wakes up much earlier than he would like due to a full bladder. Except he doesn’t want to move…so he doesn’t. He eventually forgets about it and rolls over to find that Zayn’s bed is empty, and figures his mate is out taking his final exam. Louis hopes he aces it.

He lays in bed for several hours, attempting to fall back asleep, and he nearly succeeds when the door budges open. Zayn and Liam filter into the dorm. One of them, although Louis' unsure who seeing as he’s still burrowed under his comforter, flips on the light, and Louis could absolutely kill them both for it. Don’t they see that he’s trying to enjoy a nice, depressing day all to himself?

“Louis?” Zayn says. The door closes, the knob clicking. “You still asleep?” He sounds a bit puzzled.

“Leave me alone,” Louis moans. He rolls onto his side and clutches his blanket tighter.

“You sick, Lou?” Liam asks, tugging on Louis’ comforter.

After a few good pulls, it comes free from Louis’ grip, and suddenly he’s lost his armor, vulnerable to their stares that are filled mostly with pity. Louis attempts the most seething glare he can muster, but it falls short when his eyes abruptly begin to sting. And dammit, why can’t he just pull himself together? Honestly, it’s pathetic. Louis knows better than to feel sorry for himself. He caused this mess and now he has to be the one to clean it up.

“Yes, I’m sick,” he says, “if that’s what will make you leave me the fuck alone.”

Liam laughs a little, maybe to break the ice that has suddenly frozen over the room. “C’mon, get up, let’s go get a coffee and talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Louis sniffs, rolling out of bed with a loud, dramatic huff.

He moves to the desk and plops down in the chair, glancing to the floor where his mess of clothes are scattered. He needs to pack them up today seeing as he leaves tomorrow for his Mum’s house for Christmas. He can’t think of what else he needs to pack, not right now, not with Zayn and Liam still staring at him like he’s a ticking time bomb, waiting for him to relent to their demands and talk.

“How did your last exam go, Zaynie?” Louis asks, putting on a nice, fake smile.

“It went well, I think.” Zayn shrugs a little.

“I’m sure you aced it,” Liam says, shooting him a fond smile.

“Certainly!” Louis chirps.

“Lou,” Zayn sighs, “you can fix this, you know, whatever you did last night.”

Louis frowns. “I didn’t do shit,” he says. “I ran into him and simply tried to apologize, but he doesn’t want to hear it, and I can’t do anything about that. Harry isn’t going to listen to me, and even if he did, he sure as fuck wouldn’t believe me. And you know what? I don’t blame him one bit. What I did was terrible. Unforgivable, really.”

“So just forget it then,” Liam says, surprising both Louis and Zayn. “I’m serious. I’ll take Harry his Secret Santa gift for you tonight, and I’ll pick up yours. I know who pulled your name anyways. Trust me, it’ll be fine, you don’t even have to go or participate. Hell, write Harry a note if you want and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Dude, we’d do anything for your arse.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Don’t you know that already?”

Louis swallows hard. Yeah, he knows. Sometimes it’s just hard for him to believe.

 

///

 

Zayn and Liam leave hand in hand when seven o’clock finally rolls around, presents neatly wrapped and tucked under their arms.

Louis tries very hard not to chew on his nails after they leave, but his nerves are going a little bit nuts. He's hopeful that Harry will at least like his present seeing as Louis did just as Niall suggested and bought the boy a scarf. It’s the softest one he could find on such a small budget, and it’s really beautiful. But just in case Harry ends up not liking it, or he simply doesn’t want to keep it under the circumstances, Louis made sure to tuck the receipt under it.

To keep himself preoccupied, Louis wrestles his suitcase out from under his bed and starts tossing clothes into it. He doesn't even fold them; just balls them up and pretends like his open suitcase is a basket and his clothes are a ball, which is quite ironic seeing as Louis hates basketball. He's more of a footy man himself.

When he's finished with that, he zips it up and sets it out of the way. His phone pings from his dresser. He makes a grab for it and then frowns when he sees he has a message from Zayn.

**u hve an incoming visitor xx**

Louis' eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline, and he types back:

**wtf you on about ??**      

Zayn doesn't text him back, of bloody course.

Glancing down at himself, Louis shoots a withering glare at his sweats and stained t-shirt and wonders for about half a second if he should make an effort to change, but then he decides, fuck it. He might not even open the door.

Heading for his not-so-secret stash of alcohol, Louis pulls out half a bottle of cheap vodka. He wonders if Zayn has any Red Bulls left, so he checks their mini fridge and nope, no Red Bulls, which, whatever. Louis doesn't even like Red Bull. Although he doesn't particularly like straight vodka either, so.

Then a sudden light bulb goes off in his head, which is surprising honestly, seeing as he's spent the last two weeks revising and his brain has officially gone into hibernation mode. But it sounds like a good idea to him, even if it isn't, so fuck it. Louis shoves his feet into an old, ratty pair of vans, tugs on a sweatshirt, opens the door, and— shit.

Harry Styles is standing at his door, hand raised as if he was just about to knock.

"Oh..hi."

Louis can actually feel the blood draining from his face, eyes unblinking and frozen, staring at the green eyed boy in front of him who — he-he's actually wearing the scarf. The all white, covered in colorful roses scarf that took Louis twenty nine minutes to pick out, thank you very much, and Louis can truly say he's surprised.

Also, Harry Styles is standing at his door, and that realization knocks him further into shock. Fuck Zayn for the lack of warning about the so-called 'incoming visitor.' Out of pure spite, Louis' going to drink  _his_  bottle of vodka instead.

"Uh. Hello," Louis forces out.

"I just...erm, wanted to say thanks? You know, for the scarf." Harry's bony fingers tug at the end of the fabric that's draped around his neck, and Louis thinks it looks beautiful on him. Then again, Louis has a strong feeling that just about anything Harry Styles puts on would look stunning on him. Louis bets he looks even better without clothing on though, not that he'll ever get close enough to find out. Damn his younger self for being such a fucking prick.

"You're welcome."

Harry fidgets a little. "Also, I got your note,” he says, digging it free from his pocket to hold up as proof.

Louis' ears turn red. The note he wrote Harry was short and sweet, because Louis saw absolutely no point in beating around the bush. He owned up to what he had done all those years ago, and apologized for it. It's not going to change much, he knows, but he's trying, and that has to count for something.

"I'm glad," Louis says.

Harry returns it to his pocket and looks down at his scarf. He's almost smiling, and Louis wonders if he will ever have the chance to see Harry smile for real, like that first night he knocked on his and Niall's door. "The scarf is beautiful. How did you know?"

Louis grapples for an excuse, like how he noticed over time how often Harry wears them, or something of that nature, but ultimately decides that it's probably best not to lie. "Niall," he admits. "I was gonna get you flowers too, but my account's a bit low on funds right now, sorry."

Harry's eyes widen. "No, no, that's okay. Really, the scarf is plenty, Louis," he says. "I, erm, want to apologize for last night...and the things I said. I don't usually act that way, you just caught me at a bad time."

Louis shrugs. "I get it. It's cool."

"I don't want to be angry with you anymore," Harry says, cheeks flushing pink at his admission. "What happened was a long time ago, and it's over now, and I'm sick of wasting energy thinking about it. So can we just agree that it's resolved, and maybe start over?"

"Start over?" Louis echoes, unsure if he heard correctly. "Like, be friends?"

Harry shrugs. "We could just give it a go and see how it all works out. There's no sense in avoiding each other like the plague, is there? I mean, we live in the same dorm, and apparently Niall hit it off with your mates tonight, so there's that."

"I'd say you're right." Louis makes an attempt to smile. "So, got anything planned for tonight?"

"Erm, nope," Harry shakes his head slowly, "not that I can think of. Why?"

"Well, I was just about to raid Zayn's stash of vodka, plus the drink machine. Want to have a celebratory drink with me?"

Harry's lips quirk into the faintest smile. "Sure, but what are we celebrating?"

Louis smiles shyly. "Acing our exams, of course! And...to new friendships."

"Aced exams and new friendships sounds lovely," Harry tells him, and Louis thinks he couldn't be more right. "But don't you dare think about drunkenly snogging me, Tomlinson!"

Louis laughs harder than he has in a month, and he swears he isn't going to fuck this up.

 

///

                                 

Twelve months later, Louis finally gets to snog Harry Styles, and they're drunk on nothing except love...and maybe eggnog, but no one needs to know.


End file.
